'It was a joke--a petulant joke, your proposal to give me back your ring and break our engagement--was it not, darling?' he asked after a brief pause. 'It was _no_ joke,' replied Annot, with still averted eyes, in which, however, there was not a vestige of those sympathetic tears, which, fur effect, she had usually so near the surface on trivial occasions; 'it cost me much to utter the few words I said--but I meant them.' 'You did?' 'Yes--Roland.' 'And that was to be your only reply to my remonstrances?' 'Made as these remonstrances were--yes. You are too exacting, Roland; and--and--' she added with a bluntness that jarred on his ear, 'it is so tiresome being long engaged, mamma says.' 'I am sorry you quote her; but we can end it without an unseemly quarrel, surely.' She shook her head, and all her hair shone like a golden aureole in the sunlight; and with all his just anger Roland looked at her as if his mind were leaving him. 'In short, mamma also says----' 'Mamma again!--says what?' 'That we are evidently unsuited for each other.' 'When did she discover this? Her letters to me have never breathed a suspicion of it.' Annot did not reply, but continued to trace the pattern of the carpet with a foot like that of Cinderella. 'When did she adopt this new view?' asked Roland, almost sternly. 'Recently, I suppose.' 'We know our own minds, surely, so what can her capricious ideas matter to us? If you love me, Annot, they can make no difference.' She only winced a little, and averted her face still more, as if she dared not meet his dark, earnest, and inquiring eyes. 'Speak!' he exclaimed. 'Women change their minds often, it is said--why may not I, by advice?' 'God keep me, Annot! Then the change is with yourself? Has our past, so far as you are concerned, been all duplicity and falsehood?' 'As when last we spoke on this matter, your language is unpleasant, Roland,' said Annot, as if seeking a cause for indignation or complaint. 'Is this a time to mince matters? Surely you loved me?' 'You--you were so fond of me, that I could not help liking you in return, Roland,' said she, trembling and confusedly; 'we were thrown so much together, and--and you see----' 'That I have been befooled!' he interrupted her with bitterness and a gust of anger. 'Do not use such a rough expression,' said she, recovering herself; 'and please don't allow listeners to think we are rehearsing for amateur theatricals.' For a moment concentrated fury flashed in Roland's dark eyes. Then he regarded her wistfully again, and his gust of anger gave way to an emotion of infinite tenderness. 'Annot,' he exclaimed, caressing her hands, on which, truth to tell, his hot tears dropped. 'Oh, my darling, tell me that you do not mean all this--that you are not in cruel earnest and oblivious of all the past.' 'I never loved you----' 'Never loved me?' said he hoarsely,